A zephyr rising, p.13
A Zephyr Rising, page 13
And without Stephen’s proposal, her future felt clearer. She would go to Egypt with her family, which she wanted to do, anyway. She longed to explore all the antiquities which had fascinated her so much as a girl, and work on her Arabic, too.
If only Stephen wasn’t promising to haunt her there, as well.
Ginger remembered Stephen’s hands on her breasts and gave a sudden jolt. Shuddering, she clenched her teeth, feeling the taint of his touch again. She had to find a way to be rid of him. Would Henry help her?
When she’d finished breakfast, Ginger went in search of her brother. She found him upstairs, dressing for the journey home. Henry excused the valet and Ginger came in and sat on the bed.
Henry surveyed his appearance in the mirror and adjusted his cufflinks. “What is it?”
Ginger leaned against the stiff wooden post on the four-poster bed. “I don’t want you to leave for Penmore with any tension between us. You’ve risked life and limb for me the past few days, and I’m not trying to be ungrateful.”
“I know.” Henry ran his hands over the front of his vest. “I expect I’ll be exchanging this for my uniform in the coming days. But don’t exaggerate the danger. While I took risks, they were quite by accident.”
“You’re braver than you let on.” Ginger set her hands on either side of her on the bed and leaned back. “Did Stephen give you the details of John Martin’s naturalization after he left me?”
Henry shook his head. “No...though I can’t say I want to ask him about it now. He left before I spoke with him again. And if he took the news as badly as you say, I don’t want him to feel I’ve abused our friendship.”
“I’m not sure I can avoid it.” She scrunched her face with guilt. “He accused me of that. And I asked him about the details as best I could before he left—though I think he wanted to strike me for it. He says David Peterson has set up the naturalization for five days from now. But you must get some paperwork to get him out of prison first.”
Henry sighed. “I’ll give it a couple of days and then ring Stephen to get the details sorted. If you don’t mind. Much as it may have been foolish of me, I really do care for Angelica. I don’t want to do anything more to threaten my standing with her right now.”
She stared at him, her mouth feeling dry. If she told him about the way Stephen had assaulted her, it might mean yet another threat to his relationship with Angelica. If Henry confronted Stephen, what would it mean for Henry’s hopes with the girl?
How many times in the last few days had she told her family that Henry’s relationship with Angelica was more of a solution to the security of Penmore than her engagement with Stephen?
She couldn’t rely on Henry to help her with this.
Not without doing more damage.
She gritted her teeth, blinking back the sheen of tears threatening her. No wonder Stephen had felt so free to do whatever he wanted to her.
But she had to do something to put a wedge between her and Stephen. Just not with Henry’s help.
Her voice felt scratchy as she finally answered Henry. “I don’t mind if you take some time before talking to Stephen about John Martin. Just don’t forget about it.” She stood, her arms swinging as she sauntered over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for being such a good big brother.”
“Hmmm, I try. Though you wouldn’t let me forget the Martins even if I could.” Henry chuckled and then ruffled her hair, just slightly, as he used to do when she was a girl.
She jerked backward with a tight smile, trying to pretend nothing was amiss. “Don’t make more work for poor Violet. I’m already going to have to send her to unpack my things again.”
His eyes gleamed and then he quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, poor Violet. We should give any maid that has to deal with you and Lucy a raise.”
Ginger shrugged. “I can agree with the part about Lucy.” She clasped his hand. “I’m glad we can be friends again before you leave. Can you try to fix things with father for me? Convince him that joining the nurses will be a good thing?”
“I can’t say Madeline has done you any favors with the matter. Just be careful, Ginny. I don’t see this situation with father getting better if you continue to press the issue. Can you let this idea go? You’ve done quite a lot of crusading the last few days. You may have to sacrifice some things you want.”
Henry’s lack of support stung, but didn’t surprise her. She swallowed, hard and gave him a stiff nod. If he only knew she’d just sacrificed her own dignity and pride for his sake.
As she left him, she pressed a hand over her heart, taking a slow, shallow breath. She’d gone to Henry, hoping to find the security and comfort she’d always expected from him. Now she felt more alone than ever.
Chapter Thirteen
“There’s a telephone call for you, Lady Virginia,” Giles announced from the doorway to the sitting room.
Ginger looked up from the settee, where she and Gran had been in the middle of a card game. After her father and Henry had left for the train station an hour earlier, Madeline had called Gran over for a visit.
A telephone call at Penmore was a rare enough event. Who would call her here at her aunt’s? Ginger frowned and set her hand down, the cards silkily shuffling into a pile. “Who is it?”
“A Mr. David Peterson, my lady. He asked for your brother first, but since I informed him he was no longer here, he asked for you instead.” Giles held the door for her.
David Peterson? Even though he’d helped her, Ginger felt a chill go up her spine at his name. He was Stephen’s friend. Maybe Stephen had told him of her refusal. He could be angry Ginger had tricked him. She excused herself from her grandmother and went into the foyer, where the telephone stood on the console table.
She took the earpiece and then leaned into the heavy mouthpiece. “This is Virginia Whitman.”
“Lady Virginia. David Peterson.” The voice on the line crackled with static, sounding as though it came from a tin box. “Where on earth is John Martin? If he doesn’t arrive in the next hour, I’m afraid the opportunity will completely pass us over.”
“John Martin?” Ginger went rigid with shock. But Stephen had said...
She remembered the distant look in his eyes when she’d asked.
He’d given her the wrong date.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Peterson. My brother left an hour ago—where is it he’s supposed to be getting John Martin from? Perhaps I can meet him there and see if there’s been a hiccup.” She motioned to Giles to get her paper and a pen, which he supplied immediately.
David rattled off an address. “But it’s not likely it’ll do you any good to go there. Stephen delivered the paperwork to Henry himself. Without it, he won’t be able to get out of the internment camp.”
She didn’t believe for one second Stephen had given Henry the paperwork. Henry would have said something.
Ginger stared at the address. It was in the city. “John is here in London?”
David’s voice crackled. “Yes, it’s a former factory of some sort. It’s being used for the interned. But he must be here within the hour.”
Was it possible she could get him from the internment center herself? Even without the paperwork?
“Could you stall for any longer, Mr. Peterson? I hate to ask—”
He released a guttural sigh. “Perhaps by a few minutes, but it isn’t likely. I’ll do my utmost.”
Ginger hung up the receiver and stared at the address she’d scrawled. The paper shook in her hands, a mixture of fury and fear running through her.
Of all the cold-hearted, horrible things for Stephen to do. He’d done it on purpose. Maybe revenge—or to teach her how much she “needed” him.
She rushed back to the sitting room in a daze.
Gran and Madeline stared at her expectantly, and then Gran tilted her head, clearly reading her distress. “Something tells me David Peterson was not the bearer of good news.”
“No, he’s—” Ginger rubbed her temple, a dull, brutal pain pulsing through the top of her head. A sudden headache. Or she just hadn’t noticed it before. She slackened her jaw, sure she’d been clenching it, and met her grandmother’s eyes. “He’s just informed me Stephen gave me the wrong date for John Martin’s naturalization. Henry was supposed to have him at Mr. Peterson’s office right now.”
Madeline and Gran exchanged a look. “And what does that mean?” Madeline asked, arching a brow.
“It means—” Ginger released a deep breath “—it means Stephen lied to me when I asked him about the details. I’d say it was a cruel joke, but he’ll probably claim to have been so broken-hearted by my refusal he simply mixed up the date. And if John Martin isn’t at the Home Secretary’s office within the hour, the opportunity will be gone.”
“But why?” Gran leaned forward. “Surely if they’ll naturalize him today, they can naturalize him some other day.”
Would they though? David Peterson had been quite firm about the deadline.
“Stephen arranged the whole matter—by using some of his father’s connections. I’m certain those connections won’t be at my disposal now. And even if they were, who’s to say Stephen won’t undo the arrangement to get his revenge with me? Mr. Peterson probably hasn’t heard I’ve refused Stephen yet—but he himself was doing me the favor under the impression he was doing a favor for Stephen’s fiancée.” Ginger crumpled the address into her fist, her hand shaking.
She paced, agitated and furious. “I must get John Marin out of the internment center myself. That’s all there is to it.” She whirled in a circle, then stormed from the room, heading for the stairwell.
A rush of footsteps sounded behind her. “What are you going to do?” Madeline asked.
Gran and Madeline had followed and were mere steps away. Their concern was evident—and something more . . . Are they willing to help?
Ginger started up the stairs. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something along the way.”
Gran’s voice grew louder. “I always say, if you can’t win fairly...cheat.” Ginger stopped and looked back. Gran gave her a stern look.
Ginger unwrinkled the paper. John Martin wasn’t terribly far. She’d need a car—and a reason to get him out of the internment camp. But she doubted she could simply go to the camp and demand they release him.
He needed a reason to leave.
She stomped her foot. “This is why I need to learn to do something useful with my life. Everyone can guffaw all they want about my wish to be a nurse, but when situations like this arrive, it would be nice to be capable of more than nothing.” She stopped short, her chin jerking upright.
“Ah, look, Mama, it seems our darling Ginger has had an idea.” Madeline’s green gaze gleamed.
“She has.” Gran marched closer. “Out with it.”
“Do you think—” Ginger came back down the stairs toward them. “Would they allow John Martin out of the internment center for a medical reason? If a doctor, for example, were to say he was transferring him for treatment to the hospital?”
“They might.” Madeline looked skeptical. “But we’d need a doctor.”
Ginger smiled. “I might know one willing to help.”
Ginger bounced her knee nervously, her heart jittery as the car drew closer to St. Thomas’ Hospital. She wished for a pocket watch. Anything to let her know how much time she had left. On her lap, she held the uniforms the matron of nurses had lent her. She’d grabbed them before she left, thinking if she needed an excuse to speak to James, returning the uniforms might be a good one.
Gran put her hand on Ginger’s knee. She and Madeline had insisted on coming with her—though Ginger wasn’t certain if it was a good thing or not. Gran could slow her. Giving her a sardonic smile, Gran said, “Really, Ginger. You’re not jumping rope, there’s no need to bounce.”
“I’m sorry, Gran, I’m nervous.” Ginger sucked in a slow, calming breath, her chest tight. “What if James doesn’t agree to it? I’m probably asking him to do something illegal.”
“You said he’s a Liberal. They’re always more than happy to disregard propriety.” Gran shrugged and patted the silver curls of her head exposed below her hat.
Madeline laughed. “Oh, Mama—don’t let Hugh hear you say it. He voted with the Liberals recently.”
“Yes.” Gran made a face of distaste. “But Hugh isn’t here. The only way he’ll hear it is if you’re foolish enough to tell him.”
The car stopped in front of the hospital. Ginger scrambled from her seat before the chauffer climbed out. “Stay here,” she told her aunt and grandmother. “It’ll be faster if I go alone.”
She bundled the uniforms under her arm and hurried into the entrance. Somehow within a few days of visiting the hospital, she’d learned the route well. She was usually terrible with directions.
Racing up the staircase to the floor where James’ office was, she prayed he’d be there.
She reached his office, her heart pounding through her blouse. She knocked, trying to catch her breath.
He didn’t answer.
She tried the knob, but the door appeared to be locked.
Her heart falling, Ginger turned. Where could he be?
Footsteps approached and Ginger grew hopeful. But as the sound drew closer, an orderly rounded the corner, not James.
“Excuse me,” Ginger called out to him. “Would you know where Dr. Clark is?”
“He’s in surgery, miss.” The orderly gave her a polite nod. “Don’t expect he’ll be out soon, but you can wait for him on that bench if you’d like.”
Disappointment crushed her core.
Without James’ help, she had no backup plan. She couldn’t very well pretend to be a doctor credibly, even if there were women doctors in London.
...but she could pretend to be a nurse.
She stared at the uniforms in her hands.
Would she be believable? Maybe. But her chances were better still if she had sister nurses with her.
Climbing back into Madeline’s car, Ginger handed the uniforms to her aunt before settling into her seat. She’d changed into the one walking-about uniform the matron had lent her—a uniform meant for use on the nurses’ days off. As it was more fitted than the others, changing in the hospital had seemed like the best option.
“What on earth?” Madeline stared at the outfit Ginger wore. She rifled through the stack of uniforms Ginger had given her. “What’s all this?”
“QA uniforms. I have a new plan. Dr. Clark is in surgery. Since you came with me, you’re going to help me. Get dressed.” Ginger pulled the stack from Madeline’s lap and sorted the uniforms, handing them one each. “They’re large enough that you can pull them over your dresses, however uncomfortable it may be. They’re ward dresses and aprons. I’m not certain how to fix the veil, but I’m sure between the three of us we can make sense of it. I have one for myself here.”
Gran stared at her as though she had gone mad. “You’re expecting me to don one of those—sacks? While riding in the backseat of this motorcar?”
“Precisely.” Ginger grinned, stretching the veil out in front of her. How is this thing supposed to go? “I’m not sure if I can convince them of anything on my own. But who would question three noble nurses of the Queen Alexandra’s? Especially when one is as mature and wise as you, Gran.” Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? A man’s life is on the line.”
“Exaggeration won’t help you, dearest. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you called me old. I’m not a relic.” Her grandmother had been a young mother and proud that she wasn’t as old as some of the other women in her circles. Gran held up the ward dress as though it was an infant’s dirty nappy. “Did you steal these?”
“Borrowed would be a better term for it.” At Gran’s uplifted brow, Ginger said, “The QA matron allowed me to borrow them, in fact, to see about having some tailored. Normally they wouldn’t do it before an applicant was accepted, but Dr. Clark had a hand in persuading her.”
“I think it’s quite resourceful.” Madeline gave a chuckle. She tapped on the window for the chauffer to pull forward, back onto the road.
Madeline pulled the ward dress over her blouse. It was a rather shapeless greyish blue sack. As she buttoned it, Ginger noticed her watching her grandmother. Would they be able to convince her?
Gran glowered as Madeline pulled on the apron. “You look ridiculous.”
“Oh, pretend you’re an actress, Mama. Here, I’ll help you.” Madeline scooted across her seat toward her.
Gran held up her hands. “No, thank you. I’m quite capable of pulling a potato sack over my head.” She removed her hat. “I suppose I’m to rid myself of all my jewelry, as well?”
“If we’re to be believable.” Despite the humor of the situation, Ginger’s nervous feeling grew more intense as they drew closer to the area of town where the Martins were being interned.
By the time they arrived, the three women had transformed themselves into nurses, as best they could. Ginger’s laugh was a temporary relief to the growing tension in her chest. “Thank you for this. I’ll never forget it.”
“Oh, believe me—I won’t let you.” Gran harrumphed as the chauffer pulled up in front of the factory. “Perhaps the only reason I’m doing this, you should know, is because I’m proud you had the spine to stand up to your father over that awful Stephen Fisher. But no one is ever to know of this, understood?”
Several military and police officials milled outside the building and Ginger tried to settle her trembling hands.
What if they were caught? Her mother might not ever forgive her if Ginger was to blame for her grandmother and aunt being thrown in jail.
They stepped onto the pavement. Their shoes weren’t right for the outfits. But little could be done about it and Ginger prayed no one would notice. Despite the urge to laugh at their appearance, as a police officer walked by them and frowned, she quickly sobered.
